Never Marry a Cowboy (28 page)

But still she had felt the emptiness. It would always be there between them, a chasm they could not fill because he would not give all of himself to her, and damn her heart for understanding and for hurting so painfully. And for wanting so desperately what she could never give him.

With another woman, he would not have to deny himself complete surrender to passion's glory.

As he trailed his mouth along her throat, she tried not to think of his lips touching someone else's neck, igniting another's flesh.

She felt as though her knees were turning into pools of wax, and she would soon melt at his feet. He wrapped one arm sturdily around her waist, holding her upright, while the fingers of his other hand began to deftly unbutton her bodice.

“What are you doing?” she asked on a breathless sigh.

“What I've wanted to do since I first saw you beneath the flowing waters of the fall. Only duty called then, and I had no time to enjoy you.”

“As duty should be calling you now.” She cradled his face between her hands. “You're only prolonging the inevitable.”

“Perhaps that's what I've been doing all along.”

He crushed his mouth to hers with a desperation she'd never felt in him before, as though he were clinging to her, fearful of his own demise should she not be within reach. She heard the material of her bodice rip, and quite frankly, she didn't care.

Nothing would change her mind, but she could take this memory with her, hold it near when death hovered close, and smile. Eagerly, she moved her hands over his strong shoulders and along his sturdy chest until her fingers found the buttons on his shirt.

She felt the cool mist touch her bare shoulders and soon her bare back as he removed her clothes with an efficiency that left them in tatters. With only half his
buttons free, he stepped back and she stood nude before him, his gaze wandering slowly over her as though he were painting an image in his mind, soft sweeping strokes of the brush.

His gaze left her only momentarily as he pulled his shirt over his head and cast it aside. His boots followed. Then he stripped off his remaining garments, leaving her with the breathtaking sight of his nudity. Always before, shadows had played over him, hiding portions here and there, careful to never reveal the full measure of his magnificence.

A jolt of regret shot through her. She never wanted any woman to gaze upon him as she did now, bathed in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the thick branches and leaves above.

She wanted him forever.

She gave him a tremulous smile as he held out his hand, so much larger than hers. So much stronger. With his hands, he had saved a town, and each time he touched her, she felt as though he spared a portion of her, created a memory that might never fade.

She slipped her hand into his and his fingers closed securely around it. He pulled her close and wound his arm around her as he led her to the falls. The mist grew thicker and a shiver traveled the length of her body. Her nipples puckered.

Kit released his hold on her and nudged her toward the cascading water. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Aren't you coming?”

He shook his head slightly. “I want to watch you for a while.”

Ashton felt the heat of embarrassment suffuse her
body from head to toe. “I feel like you're wanting me to put on a performance.”

“I want nothing more than memories, Ashton. Should my power of persuasion be less than I think it is, should you not tear up the death certificate that's in my saddlebag, memories are all I'll have to sustain me through my grief. Is that too much to ask?”

She felt the tears sting her eyes. “Kit, you have to understand—”

“I do understand, sweetling. That's why I need the memories. I have so few of the first woman I loved that I'll not make that mistake again.”

With a sigh and a burning desire to give him more than he asked for, she averted her gaze and walked beneath the shower of water. Its strength was as palpable as its gentleness. She allowed it to wash over her, cleansing her heart as well as her body.

She would leave him so he could follow his destiny.

Standing proud, she turned and faced him. Even through the mist, she could see the intensity of his gaze, feel its vibrant heat as he watched her. He stood as still as any statue, as any animal waiting for its prey.

She suddenly felt vulnerable and unprotected. His penetrating gaze never left hers as he stalked across the rocks and ferns, a man with a purpose.

Lord help her, she didn't know if she had the strength to withstand the assault on her heart that she knew he was capable of delivering.

He stepped into the falls, and she watched as the sheets of water washed over him, plastering his hair to his head as they continued on their journey. He
drew her to him, and she looked through the droplets into his eyes.

“You are so beautiful,” he said in a low voice. He cupped one of her breasts, lifted it slightly as he dipped his head and closed his mouth around her hardened nipple. The fury of passion exploded within her.

“You've gained weight,” he said quietly.

She had. She knew each time she put on her clothes, but all the weight in the world would not defeat death.

He cupped her other breast and drew the tip into his mouth, suckling gently. She grabbed his shoulders, seeking to remain standing when all she wanted was to lie beneath him, to have her body a molten pool of wax shaped by his hands into the raging passion that she knew he could bring forth.

He brought his mouth to hers and an insatiable appetite swept through her. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, wanting him as she'd never wanted him before, with fierceness and needs that were almost frightening. More than receiving the pleasure, she wanted to give it to him again, to witness his body's reaction, his eyes darkening as passion consumed him like a fire gone unfettered.

She wanted it all, and God help her, she wanted it for the remainder of her life whether it was measured in hours, days, or weeks.

Kit slid one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back and lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “Kiss me,” he commanded, and
she could no more deny him than she could cause the sun to stop shining.

She tasted the purity of the water rushing over them, drenching them, and more she tasted him, a flavor as distinctive as the man himself. Intoxicating. Her arms wound around his neck, and she pressed her body more closely against his as the urgency of his kiss increased.

He carried her from beneath the falls. She shivered and his hold on her tightened as though he wanted to warm her. Carefully, he dropped to one knee and laid her on the quilt. He grabbed one end and began to blot the droplets of water from her skin.

“Bloody hell, I can warm you more quickly,” he murmured before laying his body over hers.

Instinctively, she spread her thighs until he was nestled snuggly between them. He covered her completely from hip to chest. Raised up slightly on his elbows, he cradled her face and kissed her forehead, her closed eyes, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, working his way along her body.

“Kit, this won't change anything,” she whispered, her argument sounding weak even to her.

“I know,” he murmured as his tongue circled her nipple. He moved back up until their gazes were even. He held hers steadily. “I want to be inside you, Ashton. If only once more.”

With one palm, she cradled his cheek and nodded.

“Promise me that you won't close your eyes,” he rasped. “I want to see the rapture in your eyes when the passion overtakes you.”

She swallowed hard. He wanted from her what she could never have from him. Yet she would gladly give him this one last gift, accepting the pain of bereavement that she knew would accompany it when he stilled without giving her what she craved most: his complete surrender. To be so lost in her that he forgot his vow, forgot everything but her.

She slid her hands around to his back and urged him forward. “Come to me.”

He kissed her deeply, hungrily before levering himself over her, capturing and holding her gaze. Her hands stroking his back, she noted the tenseness in his muscles as he drove himself into her. Moaning with pleasure, she lifted her hips, meeting his initial thrust, relishing the fullness, the rightness of their joining.

The love she felt for him blossomed more fully as he moved against her, lowering his head now and again to kiss her throat, her breast, her shoulder, her lips. Lifting his head to hold her gaze while his body held her enraptured.

This time would be the last for them and she wanted every memory, every sensation. As though she were a starving woman, she ran her hands over him, every inch she could touch, memorizing the varying textures of his flesh, the hair on his arms, his chest, the thick strands that covered his head, the cords of muscle that rippled with each movement.

Beneath him, she responded in rhythm to the crashing of the waterfalls, cascading sensations that seemed unceasing as they escalated. She wasn't going down the falls, but climbing ever higher, reaching beyond the limits.

She felt the tenseness in his muscles increasing, his thrusts quickening, driving her toward an escalating pinnacle. She cried out as he drove her over the edge into unequaled sensations richer than any she'd ever known. She watched in wonder as his back arched with his final driving thrust, and he released a low, guttural groan.

Glorious. She felt glorious inside and out. Complete. Whole.

Her body quivered, while his trembled violently, his gaze still holding hers, his breathing harsh.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, cradling his face. “You didn't—”

He nodded slightly, lowering his body and pressing a kiss to her temple before burying his face within the crook between her neck and shoulder.

She tightened her hold on him. She'd never experienced such joy or such grief. He'd given her what she'd desired most, but at what cost to himself?

The tears rolled along her cheeks.

He kissed the corner of her eyes. “Don't cry.”

“But you didn't want this.”

“It's exactly what I wanted.” He lifted his head and combed his fingers through her hair. “I've wanted it since I saw you standing on the porch that first morning at the boardinghouse.”

“But your vow—”

“Was made out of fear, a fear that seemed so insignificant when I opened that envelope and saw your death certificate.” He trailed his knuckles along her cheek. “Dear God, Ashton, the regrets that swamped me seemed insurmountable. I thought
every moment we've shared would sustain me through the remainder of my life. But as I stared at that damned document I realized that it didn't matter when you died—whether it is tomorrow or a hundred years from now—I shall always want one more moment, one more moment. And to deny either of us anything that we want while you continue to breathe is a sin.”

“But what if I get with child?”

“I've thought a lot about that possibility. Everything in life is a risk. Either of us could have died when the outlaws attacked the stagecoach. I could have perished when I faced them in the street of Fortune. No moment is guaranteed. I have always strove to anticipate the unexpected, to plan for it. But I never expected to fall so madly in love with you. If I get you with babe, then you shall simply have to live long enough to give me the chance to hold him.”

“I can't control that!” she cried.

He brushed his lips over hers. “I know that, sweetling, but what if the physician were wrong? Instead of six months, you have twelve. 'Tis time enough to make a child. You flourished in Galveston. I spoke with a physician at St. Mary's, and he told me that evidence suggests that a drier climate can prolong the life of a consumptive, and on rare occasion, it can cure. He doesn't know why or what the secret is. I've visited the western part of this state and the air is drier than it is here, and I had thought that perhaps we could move there.

“Right now the area is rampant with outlaws and renegades, but a bill was recently passed allowing the
state to reestablish the Rangers in the western part of the state. They need men with experience to lead the way.”

Terror seized her. “You're considering being one of the men?”

“Yes.”

“You have lost your mind. You could die! Outlaws could kill you!”

“So will you leave me here because that possibility exists? Death awaits us all, Ashton. I am as likely to die from a bullet as you are from consumption. I say we give death a merry chase.”

A bubble of laughter burst from her, and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “You're insane. What about Ravenleigh? I know you love it, that you secretly wanted to be its heir all these years.”

“I love you more.” He held a finger in front of her face. “I will admit this to you and you alone and you are never to tell a soul.” He heaved a sigh. “I've grown rather fond of this damnable state.”

“But if the physician is right, and I don't survive this winter—”

“Then I shall mourn.” He kissed her lightly before capturing her gaze once again. “But if he is wrong and we part company now, I shall mourn all the more for the moments together that we lost.”

 

With the quilt draped around her shoulders, Ashton sat at the edge of the falls watching the cascading water. Like the ocean, its movements never ceased. If only she could be assured that her breathing would not cease before she was ready, before Kit was ready.

Would there ever come a time when she would welcome death's touch? She didn't want to leave all that surrounded her. Most of all, though, she didn't want to leave Kit.

He had asked for a week to convince her to stay with him, yet he had persuaded her with one simple action. He had given her everything. She had seen it in the light blue depths of his eyes and felt it in the straining, shuddering muscles of his body. She'd seen it in the sweat glistening over his flesh and heard it in the harsh breathing and deep groans. She had known it when her body had closed snuggly around his while his seed pulsed into her.